


My Name Means Outcast

by BD99



Series: Sin With Me [1]
Category: Sin With Me (Visual Novel)
Genre: Asian-American Character, Broken Families, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Non-Graphic Violence, Racist Language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 09:01:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21847123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BD99/pseuds/BD99
Summary: Her name alone had always branded her an outcast.A rough look at some of Cali's life before she met the troupe.
Relationships: Cali Meng Xi/Onyx Wren, MC/Onyx Wren
Series: Sin With Me [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1573963
Kudos: 17





	1. Mold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music for Chapter  
> Family Portrait - P!NK  
> For the Love of a Daughter - Demi Lovato

Mold

Cali Meng Xi

Her name alone had always branded her an outcast. Such an American sounding name as Cali. When people heard her first name, they didn’t think of her. They thought of the American girl next door. Bright beaches and blazing sunshine beaming down upon flowing bleach blonde hair and denim shorts riding up a sculptured rear with every step into the glide of pristinely kept rollerblades. The name Cali was a divider, a wall of Plexiglas that was so clear one might bump into it if they weren’t looking for the imperfections in the air. Then, Meng Xi. When people heard her family name, they thought of slanted eyes and glasses. The perfect student gaining all the highest awards academically. Of the scratch of pen across paper, hidden against the hard covers of books on the most advanced theory of math. They thought of dim sims, of locking up their beloved cats less they never again see them. They thought of thick accents and ching sounds, emphasizing everything until the ing sound had burned into her brain.

Her mother had named her to make life easier for her in the USA, however in doing so she had only isolated Cali further.

Cali Meng Xi, who was too American to be Chinese, and too Asian to be American.

It had started small, the observations and taunts of young kids. “Your eyes are small.” A statement which had led to Cali desperately trying to force her eyes wider all the time. Nights of a young girl staring into a mirror and attempting to appear normal. Years of spare photos penned in, drawing her eyes larger as if she could finally just fit in. Such a simple statement saw arguments between a mother and father, both struggling to decide how best to help their daughter feel confident. As young as Cali could remember, she’d always felt the walls keeping her millimeters from true acceptance. From truly fitting in. Her existence was miscalculated. Every mold she poured herself into just a hairs width out; a fraction that was enough for all to see how she didn’t belong.

Her lack of accent separated her from her Asian heritage and peers. It didn’t matter she spoke Mandarin fluently. The way her American accent changed the sound of words was enough to highlight she was only pretending to fit in. Enough to have her teachers frown and rapidly correct her. No matter how hard she tried, the American slipped in eventually. So, she did the only thing she could. She stopped speaking her native language.

Just as the American came out in her Mandarin, her Asian came out in her English. As if her jaw couldn’t form the sounds, she pronounced words slightly off. Vultures descended on the difference, mocking and pecking until Cali found her voice stolen again. Sleepless nights were spent in front of the computer, watching video after video on American pronunciation. A pre-teen little girl practicing how to roll her Rs and emphasize her Ls until her jaw felt numb.

She found her solace in the adrenaline of biking. BMX tricks became her wings. No hands. No control. Nothing but her own body communicating and flowing to pull off everything. She sculpted herself on tricks, growing powerful before her breasts had even developed. Thus, the mold of a “Girl” was taken from her. Boys mocked her as she sped past them on the tracks. Girls squealed in disgust as she balanced on a front wheel. Or in fear as she spun her bike a full circle beneath her body after a jump. In that mold she found success. She excelled, going beyond mere dabbling as many kids may have. She climbed the rungs of a BMX ladder, ascending to the point where she was someone to watch. She dominated pipes that most grown men would wet themselves facing. Hard work bloomed into success. Into competitions and trophies, cash rewards and interest. After so long as the outcast, she finally found a place where that word didn’t crush her.

Then. The mold of daughter in a happy family was torn from her in perhaps the most brutal way. It wasn’t death wrestling it from her grasp. Nor was it her family fracturing aggressively. Instead, it was silent, a ghost that stole everything from her. It was as stark as attempting to take a breath, only to find you had been submerged and to gulp a lungful of saltwater. It was as slow as sitting for her allotted time on the head of the ramp, desperately looking over a small ocean of people in search of one. One who would never show. It was when Cali reached for her family, she realized it had vanished, gone in the blink she had taken to process the spotlights on her ascension. By nine, she was once again the outcast. She was crushed by the absence of her father. She hadn’t even had the closure to know why he left; to watch his retreating back. It was a blink, then he was non-existent. Funny, how nothing had stolen her everything.

From there, Cali broke the mold of happy. No longer did she take to the half pipes. No longer did she allow the wheels of a BMX to become her wings. Instead, she studied. She pushed herself to her physical and mental limits to be the very best in her grade, sacrificing everything she had once found joy in. If she could be the perfect daughter, if she wasn’t such a boy with small eyes and a bad accent, then maybe, just maybe, daddy would come home. Her passion for fixing bikes was exchanged for medicine. A wrench for a scalpel. Even then, her father never gave her more than a single number to call. A number Cali committed to memory. It was a glaring barcode seared into the darkness behind her eyes, even long after she had destroyed the torn piece of paper. A receipt with a scribble on the back. A receipt she had also memorized. A receipt that had birthed her hatred for Vanilla Slice.

Cali had graduated in the highest ranks of her class, had earned her scholarship through her dedication. Her extracurricular of track was enough to earn extra points. She was, on paper, finally a daughter her father could have been proud of. But it was too late. Cali’s sorrow had become rage, twisted and bitter on her tongue. It took years, but the mold of Med Student cracked. Blood seeped through those cracks. Dollars and opportunities as the year slipped on. The mantle of outcast still fit, even as Cali dusted it off. She traded lab coats for colored hoodies. Designer trousers for jean shorts. Her work at the family bike store wouldn’t pay off student debts. Regardless, returning to repairing bikes was enough to allow her room to breathe. Helping her mother helped her smile. She was no longer the perfect daughter, but she was beginning to become Cali again. 

Then, it happened. THE order which led Cali to a soul who appeared put together yet was just as lost inside.


	2. Ocean

Onyx. Onyx Wren. Cali hadn’t known the name before that tidal wave struck. Onyx, while named for something dark, shone brighter than any star ever could. Neither the explosion in the sky, nor burning meteorite could outshine the brilliance of Onyx. No casino lights could have torn Cali’s attention, nor the sound of winnings. Gold. Sunlight. Stars. All rendered dull by a five foot nothing, blonde bombshell.

“You look like you could do me a favour, sweetheart.” That line was the intro to every crappy romance. It was the bread and butter of every exaggerated porno. Yet, something about the woman’s voice waltzed through the gates of logic. It was delivered so confidently; an invitation that lured Cali into the ocean instead of pushed.

“W-well you look like somebody I wouldn’t mind helping.” Cali’s stuttered response was completely out of character. A stutter! Flirting with a stranger. A WOMAN too. Cali had always struggled to break strangers automatic assumption that she was a lesbian. People simply assumed because of her past and profession without bothering to ask which boys may have broken her heart. What boy band posters teenage Cali may have stared at longingly. Those assumptions rushed through her ears, sounding of delighted laughter and continued lines of sweetness from the blonde. Cali’s mind swirled with confusion, gasping and crashing through the collision of the wave. Her senses had drowned in laughter, delighted and free, almost song like. Matched by a smile that left Cali seeing white. A smile so bright that Cali could almost hear the ringing in her ears behind her racing heart. The voice always cut through the haze, requesting Sugar for a lucky streak. Gestures cut through the white; delicate fingers touched to captivating lips. An invitation, explanation and plea mixed into one small, playful gesture that spun Cali on her head. A kiss; sugar for a winning streak. Cali learned that day that sugar tasted like Raspberries.

Raspberry. It was the closest thing Cali could identify that explained the flavor of Onyx’s kiss. Ripe and sweet; yet never crossing into sickly. There was a bite beneath it, heat that bloomed beyond Onyx’s small body pressed to hers; showing Onyx’s instant trust that Cali would not allow her to fall. More than the fingers linked around the nape of her neck. Before that bite could become sharp, it was tamed by the breathy giggle muffled between them. Just as Cali found her metaphoric feet, the tide pulled Onyx away. A twiddle wave of her fingers, a ticket to A Night of Sin courtesy of Envy and a gentle request. “Come see me, Sweetheart.”

What followed was perhaps the most spectacular performance Cali had ever seen. Envy, blindfolded, chased by fire across a silken rope. Cali felt her heart in her throat, pounding more wildly than her cries as Onyx cartwheeled across the rope, seeming to fly as the rope snapped through and she landed gracefully on Malakai’s broad shoulders. Awe rendered Cali immobile, leaving her prone to the playful wink and mouthed greeting. Somehow. Amidst the shadows and crowd, amongst silk ties and cocktail dresses, Onyx had actively sought Cali out. Onyx’s broad, gleeful smile was only emphasized by the swirling lights and smoke of the show. For how brightly the girl shone, Cali was sure her hands should have burned. No mortal could hold the heat of a star in their hands. Onyx didn’t burn; she illuminated.

After that, Cali lost days. Days where her body was not her own. Days of pain. Darkness. Static. Blistering heat. Nerves tingling. Prickling. Raspberries. Always that scent of raspberries and gentle warmth. The first time it was Onyx’s lap she awoke in amidst the ruins of a Casino. Renovations, Onyx explained. Then a second, she found her nose burrowed into the crook of Onyx’s neck. It was so unfortunate Cali was having issues with her head. Did she remember that Envy’s real name was Onyx? Small arms wrapped around her; comforting, protecting, grounding. A third found her staring at the skies, parched and burning alive beneath the sun’s heavy rays. It was the gleam of lip gloss and sweat across a concerned face that drew her attention. Why was Onyx so out of breath? Had she been running? The rest of the Circus were also concerned and confused for the strange girl Onyx had taken a liking to. It was Onyx who fought to tell Cali the truth, that her body had played host to several demons. That the Troupe were Assassins who hunted these demons. The worst thing was exposing that Cali should have been dead. That humans were not designed to survive the way she had when it came to demons. It was enough to make Cali flee in fear, given her first chance. She fled straight into two attacking men. The fight that followed was a brutal awakening. The Assassins fought for her; despite the fact she had ditched them. Onyx put herself between Cali and a man twice her size. A man who drew blood. The image of Onyx flipping a man twice her weight, ignoring the blood dripping from her nose burned into Cali’s mind. Onyx continued to step up, paying the cost for Cali to gain the sight. Protecting Cali from the demons on the street.

Demons. Possessions. Assassins empowered beyond mere humans. Everything Cali had believed was turned on its head so abruptly that she couldn’t find North. She was thrown and rolled in a current too deadly to navigate. Left in the darkness of her newly acquired knowledge. Onyx was the only grounding factor in all of it. Onyx, who refused to abandon Cali. Who hesitated to hold her hand, but happily took her to the most secret of Pizza shops. Onyx, who beat up men over a foot taller than her with such precision yet kissed so gently it was as if Cali might fade away under the slightest pressure. The troupe were all superheros, but Onyx was Cali’s personal hero. She was leather and blades daring demons to try to take Cali away. She was also the warm shoulder there to help ease Cali’s troubled mind as she processed the changes. Onyx gave Cali wings, teaching her the basics of the tightrope. Falling had been much of a rush as feeling the rope tension come alive beneath her feet. Onyx’s false swoon fall to join Cali in the safety net had shown that Onyx felt the same about falling. Cali couldn’t help but question is literal falling was all Onyx was spoken about.

Onyx was the sun; Cali came to realize. Immeasurable warmth that lulled every sense into relaxation with the lightest touch. A voice so silvery and sweet it was the cliché of bird song. Learning Onyx could literally understand birds was no surprise, not with how they seemed to come closer when she was around. It was alarming to realize Onyx loved the water, to see how her muscles relaxed once she dipped her feet into the stream. It was an honor to see the act, Cali had come to recognize, fall away enough to show the insecurities Onyx struggled with. The shadows of pain that burdened her. Onyx was the ocean in all the best ways; a wave coming down. It was only looking up into Onyx’s green eyes, the color of sunlight through the underside of a wave, that Cali realized she was completely fine to be swept away by the tide.

Surrendering to the tide that was Onyx was not hard. That ocean was unending. Unfathomable. But it felt more like home than any Cali had ever swum before. So familiar was it that when Cali begun to sink, the feelings of water in her lungs became oxygen. For once, Cali finally felt she belonged.

**Author's Note:**

> I owe a HUGE shutout to Zutiala, who not only has been an EPIC DnD partner but my entire filter at 3:00am when these dumb ideas strike. I am talking bouncing 4,000 words off Zuti at a$$ AM. If you're a mass effect fan, you will 100% value the Ardat-Yakshi pieces Zuti has done. They are some of the coolest OCs I have seen and amazing humanization of ALL sides of conflict. 
> 
> PLEASE, go check Zuti out and give some love.   
> https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zutiala


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